Iran through my eyes

“The generation never allowed to fly……..”

If you haven’t already come across Hila Sadeghi, the young Iranian poet, you are about to. Great poetry has been written by great Persian poets in the past and the rhythm and musicality of the language makes it perfect for this medium.

Written and spoken with passion, angst, disappointment and anger, Hila’s poems come alive as she delivers them to the receptive audience and she gets the recognition and applause she deserves for her talent, openness and bravery.

I’m not proficient enough in Farsi to really appreciate Persian poetry past or present-it is difficult to translate poems from and into any language without losing some of the inferred meaning but even if you don’t speak the lingo, there is no doubting the meaning and passion behind Hila’s poems. She speaks from the heart. A brave thing to do.

It is autumn and the school re-opens.I am filled with moments and memories in this classroom where you are no more.I sit there at your desk that is topped with perished flower petals.

It is autumn and I am so full of rainIt is autumn and I am so full of rainI am imprisoned by my own rage.

What a beautiful tomorrow we dreamed ofIt is all in vain now.

What great times and what dreams we passedsearching for a re-awakening.

Me and you!We were the generation that was not allowed to fly.

Me and you!We were the generation that could not fly!

Enslaved in the claws of the falcon-the same falcon who shot you in front of my eyes with its sharp claws!The same falcon who shot you in front of my eyes with its sharp claws!

All our dreams diedand separated our hands of friendship.

You drank the poison of death,and you left me suddenly.

I now swear to to the tears that roll down a mother’s faceAnd I swear to our eternal ideasAnd I swear to each drop of blood of loveAnd I swear to the burning hearts in chainsMy heart shattered in a hundred pieces and fell to the groundThe sorrow had cut my heart.

Tell meTell me if you are happy where you are.

Are you free in the other world?Do yo still remember our younger years?Do you still love your country?

Tell me, are there no perverts where you are?Is the fate of trees indebted to axes?Do they not steal your conscious over there?Do they not rape your pride over there?

Are there signs of unknown graves where you are?Do you hear the cries of the mothers?